Fluffy Sparkles
by DorianWilde
Summary: Stiles and Derek are on the same TV-show. Derek has a secret, a pony and no shirt.


**AN: To Caroline and Caroline, because you can't have enough Carolines in your life. Based on a post/prompt by utomjordisk on tumblr.**

_Fic where Stiles and Derek are on the same tv show and it's like little house on the prairie or something, or idk, something with horses anyway, because Derek is awesome with horses, like both in and out of the show. And Stiles is a new actor on the show and he's friends with Scott who's the on-set veterinarian and one day when Stiles is hanging out with Scott, Derek comes by with one of his horses and Stiles is like 'wow okay you really care' and probably gets turned on and then they get to know each other or something I DON'T KNOW I just want Derek to be really good with horses for some reason? _

Stiles loved being an actor, he really did, especially today. This was his first big actor-job since he left college two years ago. He'd signed a ten-episode contract with _Behind the bushes_, a very popular series that had aired more than five hundred episodes. He'd accidentally kissed his agent Lydia in excitement when she told him he'd gotten the part. Lydia had promptly slapped him, before handing him the contract to sign. And here he was, surrounded by trees, birds chirping - and a hunky man with a six pack and no shirt?

_How the fuck am I supposed to remember my own name if he's going to walk around like that? Unprofessional is what it is._

Another great thing about being here was that he could spend some time with Scott, his best friend since high school, who was the veterinarian on set.

"Sure you can handle all those lines?" Scott teased, nudging him. Stiles turned towards him, rolling his eyes.

"Of course I can, _I'm_ a professional. As long as he keeps his shirt on anyway," he added in a mutter, following hunky mc shirtless with his eyes.

"You mean Derek?" Scott questioned cleverly.

"No, I mean the tech guy who looks to be pregnant with twins."

"Haven't changed, I see. Here, hold this puppy." He handed a startled Stiles a schaefer-pup.

"O-kay. What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Hold it while I prepare this." He held up a shot and Stiles winced.

"So what's his story?" he asked to distract himself from the huge needle. The puppy whined and Stiles tried to get a better grip, making the dog growl at him. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured.

"Tech guy?" Scott sassed.

"Hark hark."

"Well, Derek is on the show-" Scott began.

"I know that-"

"-but he also takes care of the horses," Scott finished, ignoring his input.

"Really?" Stiles looked at him sceptically. "How are the horses?" he asked, frowning. "I mean, Derek looks like he isn't capable of human emotion what so ever. He looks more like a 'hey, this horse would make a good burger'-kind of guy, you follow me? I'm just saying, are you sure those horses are okay?" Stiles demanded, because dammit, he liked horses and he didn't want them to become burgers.

Scott looked at him blankly for a few moments, then shrugged. "Haven't had any complaints so far." Scott's eyes glazed over as he looked at something over Stiles' shoulder.

"I'll just leave you to drool and look randomly brain dead, shall I? Say hi to Allison from me," he added, because really, he had promised his dad he'd try out this 'be polite'-thing.

"Uumhhnm," Scott said, smiling goofily, waving.

"Right."

-'-'-

"-and cut. That's it for today you guys."

"Thank god, Mary and Josef," Stiles muttered. They'd done twenty six takes of the last scene. The scene where Stiles ran up a hill. In the middle of July.

_Everything hurts. Everything _smells_. Oh sweet mother of Jesus, if I wanted exercise I wouldn't have become an actor._

"Save me doctor," he complained, throwing his arms around Scott's neck.

"You are such a baby," Scott laughed. "I must say, I almost felt bad for you the last nine times," he smirked.

"Your compassion moves me," Stiles drawled. "I'm starving," he stated, moving towards his trailer. "But I also smell."

"That you do. Shower while I pick us up something."

"And this is why we're friends."

-'-'-

They were sitting outside Stiles' trailer, legs stretched out in front of them as Scott retold his latest encounter with Allison.

"-so I was _going_ to say, I like you, but instead it came out sounding a bit like iljfndko-"

"Scott!" Hunky mc shirtless, this time wearing a shirt but mc has-his-shirt-on just isn't that catchy, came running up to them.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked, immediately getting up from the grass.

"It's Fl- _Rambo_, her leg's acting up." Derek's stone face showed small signs of worry. Or indigestion. Or maybe he was older than Stiles thought he was and was in fact _not_ showing any emotions, he just had visible wrinkles Stiles had mistaken for an expression.

"Again? Alright, I'll take a look at it," Scott offered.

"It's fine. I just need her meds so it won't get inflamed."

"You have a mare called Rambo?" Stiles asked. "Really?"

"Who are you?" Derek frowned at him, unwillingly acknowledging his presence.

"We've done two takes together?" Stiles offered, hitching an eyebrow.

"If you say so." Derek grabbed the medicine and ran off again.

-'-'-

Stiles would soon be a convicted murderer. How did he know this? Well, he knew enough about police work to know he'd get caught.

And Derek was infuriating enough to make a life sentence seem worth it.

"It's just- and he's just- and then I'm-" Stiles made a frustrated gesture, for once in his life at a loss for words.

"Right," Scott agreed, nodding. They were sitting about a mile away from the set, both needing a break from the craziness. On a small hill they'd found some bushes thick enough to lean on, effectively shielding them from view should there be any annoying paparazzi around.

"You know what? I should confront him!" Stiles suddenly exclaimed.

"Um, I don't think that's-"

"I should say," Stiles thought frenetically. "Oi! You swaggering-"

"Oi? Stiles, you're not British-"

"-self obsessed, rude, hunky bastard!"

"...did you say hunky?"

"I might have done. I'm not blind, Scott!" Stiles defended himself. "Still, he's a sociopath who grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere where it was probably 'okay for little Derek to murder visitors as long as he hid the corpses properly'."

"Um, he grew up in Beacon Hills, same as us?"

"_My point is,"_ Stiles raised his voice._ "_How can they let him be in charge of the horses?"

"Still on about that, are we?" Scott sighed. "Because he's good at it?" he suggested. Stiles scoffed, glaring into the sunset.

_Geez, this is romantic._

"Hey, speaking of," Scott suddenly grinned, pointing at someone on their right hand side. Derek was leading a small, chubby pony by the reins, his free hand resting against its side.

"My life is now complete," Stiles snarked, crossing his arms over his chest. Derek hadn't spotted them yet, completely focused on the pony. They could hear him talking to it as he came closer. Exchanging a look, both shrank into the bushes, trying to be as silent and invisible as possible.

"You're all better now, aren't you sweetheart?" Derek cooed. "A nice, long walk was just what you needed to stretch that achy leg of yours, wasn't it girl?" He patted the pony lovingly. Stiles' chin was hanging somewhere around knee-level. Derek stopped, almost completely below them, walking around the pony, pressing his face against hers. "I know I look after a lot of horses, but you're my favourite one," he assured her. "Seventeen years and counting, you and me. Feels like my dad brought you home yesterday." He smiled, and Stiles' gut clenched. He was just so... gorgeous. _Oh no you don't, Stilinski. He's a swaggering, self obsessed, rude hunky- Oh god, he's such a hunk._ "You'll be alright, Fluffy Sparkles. I'll have you right as rain in no-time." Derek kissed the Pony's muffle, then continued walking.

"Did he just call his pony Fluffy Sparkles?" Stiles whispered.

"Yes. Yes he did," Scott whispered back.

_He really cares about his horses. Loves them even. He actually seemed, I mean, just for a second but still, he seemed like a decent human being. He's caring and gorgeous. I'm so fucked. Oh, and those tight jeans..._

"I'm seriously turned on right now." _Don't open your mouth if you haven't finished your thought._

"You sick bastard."

-'-'-

Stiles once again found himself at the stables. It wasn't like he went out of his way to see Derek. Just a little. A lot. Enough for Derek to notice.

"It's you again," Derek said tonelessly, not even glancing at him as he walked through the door.

They sort of had conversations. Stiles held a monologue and Derek grunted on occasion. Other times both of them talked, admittedly Stiles more than Derek, while the latter lovingly looked after his horses. Grudgingly, Stiles had realized. He. Sort of. Maybe. Liked Derek. Like. A lot.

_Damn hunky men who are bastards to me but kind to animals! Damn them!_

"So it is. Would you look at that." Stiles feigned surprise. The more he got to know Derek, the more he realized how wrong he'd been to judge him. He was an asshole, but he had a sort of niceish side as well. Stiles had managed not to swoon as Derek helped him prepare for the scene where Stiles' character Dylan was going horseback riding. He'd been so kind and gentle with the animals, Stiles found himself desperately wanting to be a horse.

"Aren't you friends with Scott?" Derek asked, taking his shirt off.

_Wha- He can't just _do_ that! I don't care if it gets hot in here when he's working. Not like it will get colder now!_

"Yeah?" Stiles carefully kept his eyes on his face. _Don'tlookathisabsdon'tlookathisabs._

"Why don't you go bother him instead?" Derek suggested, measuring up hay in a bag, tipping into one of the stalls.

"I would, but he's neutering the puppies today," Stiles winced.

"You are such a fucking wuss," Derek informed him.

"Well..." Stiles thought quickly. "You have a pony called Fluffy Sparkles!" he countered triumphantly. _Who's the wuss now? _

Derek's eyes widened. "I do not!"

"Do so!

"Her name is Rambo!" Derek insisted.

"No it's not!" It's Fluffy Sparkles, the chubby Shetty!"

"She's not chubby! Her fur is very thick!" Derek's chest heaved. He looked ruffled and gorgeous. Stiles' brain shut down. He pounced.

-'-'-

"I have hay everywhere. I mean, _everywhere_. Even in my-"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Derek asked, helping him get to his feet.

"Do you ever stop frowning?" Stiles countered, brushing himself off. Derek rolled his eyes, then he _actually smiled_. Stiles froze in chock, becoming momentarily dazzled. He then realized he probably looked like Scott in Allison-mode and snapped out of it.

"So. Will you, like, maybe, call me or whatever?" Stiles buttoned his pants, fumbling a bit. "If you don't it's totally fine, I just mean, we could do this again." His voice became momentarily muffled as he pulled his shirt back on. "In a place with less hay, preferably," he added as an afterthought. "Or here, if you want to, I'm not to picky. You know what, never mind. I'm gonna go now. I'll see you on set or whatever."

_Stop making an arse of yourself and run, Stiles, run! Shut your mouth and hold on to what's left of your dignity._

"My phone's over there," Derek pointed, calmly zipping his fly.

"O-okay." Stiles quickly typed his number, put it down and fled.

-'-'-

It took Derek three hours and twelve minutes to text him.

**Derek to Stiles**

Got all the hay out?

**Stiles to Derek**

Almost. Stopped looking like a scarecrow at least

**Stiles to Derek**

They're filled with hay

**Stiles to Derek**

Never mind

**Stiles to Derek**

What's up?

**Derek to Stiles**

Reading in my trailer. You want some help with places you can't reach?

Stiles was out the door in seconds.


End file.
